


The Second Trimester

by hanjikyo



Series: Of Pregnancy [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Disgruntled husband Thorin, Dwarves who are positively terrified of a tiny pregnant hobbit, M/M, Pregnant Bilbo, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:10:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanjikyo/pseuds/hanjikyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield is a disgruntled husband of a pregnant hobbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Trimester

Thorin is on edge. He wants to be the best husband right now but it’s hard when one’s pregnant spouse is extremely moody. One minute he’s needy and grasping at any part of Thorin he could reach. Next thing Thorin knows, he’s being shoved or kicked out of their bed.

Thorin’s not a patient dwarf but from what he’s learned from Oin, Gloin and Bombur – is that patience would be the only thing that would save him from pulling all his hair out.

“Thorin” Bilbo’s voice is beckoning and Thorin doesn’t spare his paperwork a second glance before running to his pregnant hobbit.

“Yes, ghivashel?” Thorin asks the moment he catches sight of Bilbo. The hobbit is on their bed, his swollen feet propped up and his swollen hands rubbing his large belly (that would still continue to grow until the third trimester according to Oin).

“Would you be a dear and fetch me some strawberries.”

“And where would I find strawberries at this hour, ghivashel?” Thorin asks, trying to school his voice into something calm. It’s already pass midnight and Thorin still has a stack of papers to read and either approve or veto in time for his meeting tomorrow morning.

“In the royal kitchens of course.” Bilbo looks at his husband as if he’s explaining something to a little dwarfling. Bilbo has that ability, alright; to make Thorin into feeling like a dwarfling who still needs guidance.

Thorin nods his head and quickly makes his way out of their quarters and towards the royal kitchens which was five hallways and a storey far. He grumbles all the way, of course.

If this is what husbands went through when their spouses are pregnant then he has a newfound respect for the poor blokes. He loves Bilbo, he does with all his heart and everything else that he is, and he would freely jump in front of a stampeding band of orcs just to save his beloved then he wouldn’t think twice in doing so. But having to fulfill crazy demands in unfortunate hours of the day or night, Thorin is thinking that climbing a bloody mountain or even conversing with an elf would be more bearable.

Along his long journey to the royal kitchens, Thorin’s mind suddenly replay the mishaps that he has had to face during the last months of Bilbo’s pregnancy.

~*~

_“None of my clothes fit me anymore.” Bilbo wails as he flung the tenth shirt that he has pulled out of his closet. All of the hobbit’s clothes are scattered on the floor, some of them a little bit stretch from Bilbo trying to squeeze himself in it._

_“I might as well not leave the bed if I couldn’t look presentable.” The hobbit continues to wail, his hands instinctively resting on top of his belly. He looks down at his belly and glares._

_“Why do you have to grow so much?” Bilbo all but demands his unborn child as if the poor thing is the reason for his clothing crisis._

_Thorin slowly walks up from behind and wraps his arms around his pregnant husband and buries his pointed nose behind Bilbo’s ears. He nuzzles for a little while, waiting for Bilbo to stop crying and to actually relax for just a minute._

_“I still fit you, azyungel. See?” Thorin motions for Bilbo to look down at his arm that were comfortably wrapped around his belly. Bilbo snorts and he wipes his tears with the back of his hand._

_“You’re not a piece of clothing, Thorin.”_

_Thorin all but laughs and calmly suggests that they ask Dori to make Bilbo some maternity clothes that would be both comfortable and presentable. Bilbo argues and refuses at first but it silenced by Thorin pointing at all his clothes and a few kisses to the neck._

_~*~_

_“So why is there a sudden demand for shrimp?” Bard asks as he assists Thorin and his entourage in loading their purchased supplies._

_“Bilbo.” Thorin grunts in reply as he watches the last of the twenty crates of shrimp be loaded into the royal barge._

_Bard hums and nods his head in understanding. He’s been there before, three times to be exact, and he’s secretly thankful that his stint is over. He lays a comforting hand on Thorin’s shoulder with an apology for the king’s pregnancy-related stress._

_“How’d you do it?” Thorin suddenly asks the dragon-slayer. Maybe Bard has a solution for his woes._

_“The one carrying the will always be right and it is wisest if we husbands just agree.” Bard shrugs his shoulders as he chuckles at memories of him running up and down Laketown to search for specific cravings of his wife._

_Thorin nods his head and sighs heavily._

_~*~_

_“Am I fat?”_

_Thorin’s mind suddenly goes into emergency overdrive as he thinks of the safest thing to answer his husband. Ever since he became pregnant, it has become an obsession of Bilbo to look at himself in the mirror._

_“You’re healthy, my love.” Brilliant, Thorin. Now he’s going to think you think he’s fat._

_“So you think I am fat.” Bilbo rounds on and glares at his dwarf husband, his hands on his hips and one of his feet tapping impatiently against the floor._

_“I thought hobbits like being round and healthy” Thorin slowly says and resolutely tells himself to just shut his mouth already._

_“Hobbits do but we do not take kindly to being called fat, Thorin Oakenshield.” If glares could kill Thorin’s certain he’d be in the halls of his forefathers by now._

_“Azyungel, I simply meant..” Thorin rises from his seat and advances on his husband but is abruptly stopped by a raised hand._

_“No. You shall not come near me, Thorin Oakenshield. Just because you’re fit and have no difficulty in being so does not give you the right to call me ‘fat’. Try carrying this baby for a day and maybe you’ll realize how I feel.” Bilbo’s voice wavers and tears start sliding down his cheeks. Thanks to the pregnancy Bilbo is extra emotional these days and speaking with him is like treading through brittle glass. Everything must be done with great caution._

_“Bilbo,” Thorin helplessly says, his voice all but begging._

_“Out!” Bilbo yells and Thorin sags his way out of their bedroom._

_~*~_

_“Thorin Oakenshield!” Everyone around the king’s conference room jumps a few feet in the air at the sound of the Royal Consort’s voice. It’s the first week of the month so it means all the heads and masters of the kingdom would be converging for the monthly meeting for the king to be able to keep track of Erebor’s activity._

_“Forgive me, your majesty but we couldn’t convince his highness to wait outside.” The guard that ran after Bilbo bowed his head to Thorin’s direction. Bilbo turns and glares at the guard and the poor lad scurries away if he knows what’s good for him._

_“Azyungel, couldn’t this wait after the meeting?” Thorin calmly says, but in truth he’s already pleading at this point and Bilbo is well aware of it, while motioning for those seated around the table to return to their seats._

_“Thorin,” Bilbo’s voice suddenly turns sickly sweet and Thorin is already trying to remember if his last will and testament is complete and finalized. “Where is Frodo?”_

_Realization suddenly dawned on Thorin, his whole body being filled with dread. HE was supposed to pick up Frodo from Laketown before this meeting and take him to his Uncle Bilbo in the library._

_“You were supposed to pick him up, remember?” Bilbo says through gritted teeth and if Thorin wasn’t fearing for his life, he’d be laughing at his delegates and all the members of the company as they all crouch down into their seats and try to be as invincible as possible. Even Dwalin was cowering._

_“I expected the two of you in the library but what I receive is a crying fauntling saying that his Uncle Thorin has forgotten all about him.” Thorin shrinks into his seat. He’d have to apologize and make it u to  his youngest nephew who, he’s certain, is positively upset with him at the moment. "And now, thanks to you, he's in his room moping!" Bilbo's voice rises and turns slightly shrill._

_“This better be the last time this happens, Thorin Oakenshield. Or so help me, I’ll pack up my bags and take Frodo back to the Shire even before this baby is even born.” Bilbo’s fuming and Thorin could feel Balin elbowing him at his side whilst whispering to the king to apologize immediately._

_But before Thorin could start on his apology Bilbo’s already storming out of the room, yelling that the great King under the Mountain would be sleeping on the couch tonight._

_“You’re doomed, uncle.” Fili says as he watches his poor uncle groan and sink in his chair._

_~*~_

_Bilbo still liked to cook even in his pregnant state. He just loves to prepare food for his constantly hungry family who are too busy to take care of themselves for a day. His dwarves are quite picky when it comes to vegetables, though so Bilbo makes an extra effort to sneak in some greens into meat dishes without any of the dwarves noticing. There’s also their ruckus way of eating, singing and thumping and yelling with mouths full of food. Bilbo has grown quite fond of it, actually but he’ll never let them know that. He can stand their disgust for vegetables or their rowdy behavior but what he cannot stand, at all, is dirty dwarves with Yavanna only knows what stuck between their fingernails digging into the food he has slaved over. Thank goodness the women and Frodo have the decency to wash their hands first before tucking in._

_“Now,” Bilbo took a deep breath before leveling every single of his dwarves with a stern look, his voice eerily calm. “I want you all to march to the sink and wash all those dirt from your hands.” He cradles the carving knife for the large chicken he roasted, letting the blade shine with certain maneuvers of his wrist._

_The dwarves didn’t spare another second before running to the sink, knocking each other for the faucet and soap in the process. The women simply laugh as they eat their share of the meal and watch the men scurry like terrified dwarflings under the scorn of a terrifying pregnant hobbit._

~*~

Thorin does find the strawberries and he makes his long trek back to their room. He plans on dropping the strawberries unceremoniously on the bed and head for his paper-laden desk without a second glance to his hobbit.

He does so follow through with his plan, dropping the strawberries on the bed with a scowl on his face, but isn’t able to head straight for his desk because Bilbo is calling his name again.

“Where are you going?” Bilbo innocently asks as he bites on one of the strawberries. Thorin turns to glare at his husband but he finds he couldn’t do so when he finds Bilbo staring at him with an expectant look gracing that angelic face of his.

Bilbo silently beckons for Thorin and the dwarf king finds himself in front of the hobbit without any hesitation. Bilbo takes another bite of a strawberry and offers the remaining part to Thorin. Thorin smiles and eats the offered strawberry.

The two do not break eye contact as Thorin finishes munching on the strawberry. The dwarf scoots into the bed and carry his hobbit into his lap whilst eating the strawberry. His arms instinctively wrap around Bilbo’s frame as the hobbit snuggles into Thorin’s warmer body. Thorin trails sticky kisses along his husband’s neck and Bilbo giggles in response, lightly swatting his much larger husband’s forearm.

“I’m sorry I’ve been awful to you.” Thorin stops his sticky ministrations at the sound of his pregnant husband’s voice.  He looks up with furrowed eyebrows and stares at Bilbo.

The hobbit has his head bowed and his cheeks are slightly tinted pink while his swollen hands fiddle with whatever he could reach and in this case it’s the strings of Thorin’s tunic. It’s a habit he has when he’s apologizing. Thorin thinks it’s simply endearing.  

Thorin raises Bilbo’s chin with his fingers, gentle as always when holding his hobbit, and looks straight into his pregnant husband’s eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, ghivashel.” Thorin whispers before pressing his lips against Bilbo’s. The hobbit responds to the kiss with much gusto that the two are left moaning and breathless but they don’t mind.

Bilbo’s hands trail down from Thorin’s shoulder to his torso, slowly mapping the expanse of skin, hair and muscle that is his husband. He pulls away from the kiss with a gasp and Thorin sinks into the hobbit’s neck, kissing any patch of skin his lips could find.

“Thorin.” Bilbo moans out his name and Thorin thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. He could feel Bilbo’s hands untying his trousers and he does the same thing to the hobbit’s maternity pants.

Before they know it, well despite the awkward shucking of pants without meeting any falls, Bilbo’s grinding his hips against Thorin’s. The dwarf already has two thick fingers inside the hobbit and Bilbo’s asking for more in the sultriest of ways.

Bilbo surges forward, stretching his arm while having his body held by Thorin, and makes a grab for the little bottle of oil on top of the bedside table. He shoves it to Thorin’s free hand as he smashes his lips against the dwarf. The dwarf doesn’t waste any second in coating his erection with copious amounts of oil, his fingers still working Bilbo’s whole.

Thorin slowly takes out his fingers and inserts his throbbing erection into his beloved hobbit. The gasp he gets from Bilbo only drives more blood to his manhood and he takes all the willpower that he has to not come at that precise time.

Bilbo repeats his name like a mantra as he slides his hips and every direction possible. Thorin could only growl at every call of his name as he grips the hobbit’s back.

Bilbo calls his name one more time, his hands making a grab for the dwarf’s hair, and Thorin could feel hot thick liquid squirt into his abdomen. It takes him less than a minute before reaching his orgasm, filling Bilbo with his sperm. They ride out their highs with lingering kisses in between.

“Menu zirup men” Bilbo whispers against Thorin’s lips, his fingers lightly scratching at his husband’s beard.

Thorin tries not to his emotions at the perfect pronunciation of the phrase. He is well aware that Khuzdul is such a beautiful yet forceful language but the way Bilbo says it makes it sound like a melody that could never be replicated by anyone else. He holds Bilbo close to him as he repeats the statement, mostly against the hobbit’s curly hair.

They lay on the bed, Thorin helping Bilbo into a comfortable position without squishing the baby. Thorin returns the oil bottle on the table and places the container of strawberries beside it before pulling the covers on both him and Bilbo.

He lets Bilbo wiggle into his sturdy arms, burrowing his head and his belly against Thorin’s warm skin. “I thought you had paperwork to do.” Bilbo drowsily drawls, the words vibrating against Thorin’s skin. Thorin hums and tucks Bilbo against him even more.

“It could wait.”

It definitely could. Right now, his sleepy pregnant hobbit is his sole priority.

**Author's Note:**

> Some translations, if needed:  
> \- 'Menu zirup men': You complete me  
> \- 'Azyungel': Love of all loves  
> \- 'Ghivashel': Treasure of all treasures


End file.
